


At the Door of the Soul

by mechanicaljewel



Series: Mallorypenny [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Boss/Employee Relationship, Canon Character of Color, Desk Sex, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicaljewel/pseuds/mechanicaljewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mallory is hit with a bout of melancholy. Eve has some ideas on alleviating it.</p><p>Sequel to "Postlude of Solace".</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Door of the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> kiddoread asked for more Mallorypenny and suggested Eve helping him out of a low point related to his PTSD. That's not exactly what I ended up with but I think it works.

"And Claire Dower's office has been calling about setting up a hearing about the incident at the last hearing," Eve said without a hint of irony in her voice, while her face made it abundantly clear she found great humor in the situation.

"You'd think it would have put her off public hearings entirely," Mallory replied grimly. Eve pursed her lips, trying to wipe the amusement from her face. Mallory's tone made her feel ashamed. He was right, there was nothing to laugh at in the whole situation. But when he looked up at her, his expression softened. "It is utterly ridiculous. I wish I could enjoy the gallows humor of it all."

"It about says it all about the hubris of politicians during an election year, if nothing else," Eve tried instead.

Mallory snorted and a small smile did crack on his face. "Ah yes, elections. I may have the entire weight of our country's national security on my shoulders, but every time I remember that I will never have to stand for an election again, I'm again convinced that I made the right decision." He was, of course, entirely serious.

"I've talked her into separating the two incidents-- Silva's escape and assault on Whitehall, and, ah, what happened in Glencoe. She's none too pleased about making the latter a _sub rosa_ hearing, since apparently the only thing better for one's career than berating MI6 for a terrorist escaping and shooting up her last hearing is berating a woman who is no longer around to defend herself for trying to do just that. But I explained that the only surviving witness is a high level, active duty agent who could not be compelled to testify publicly on any matters still governed by the Official Secrets Act."

"Can't imagine she was too pleased by that."

"Not the least of which that said agent apparently still has a job."

"Just barely," Mallory scoffed. "It was hard enough convincing the press that the agent at Skyfall that night had no personal ties to the estate, that he was merely aware that the completely different MoD official who had owned it had died and seized on it as a good remote off-the-grid hideaway and was unaware it had been sold. And thank God Q-Branch dug up the demolition permit applications the new owner had filed days previously so all the Treasury had to pay out for was the application fees and the clean-up."

"Small miracles are what keep this department going."

"We'll need a bigger miracle to get 007 to show up for the hearing, closed door or no," Mallory snorted

Eve smiled knowingly. "He just needs the firm guiding hand of a good woman."

Mallory cleared his throat. "Ms. Moneypenny, I would of course never dream of dictating to you how to conduct your personal affairs, and ah, especially not how such matters  might overlap with work matters," his eyes flickered over to the leather sofa where they had...all those weeks ago, in their shared grief and need for release and companionship. "But please do not think you have to do whatever it takes to get 007 to cooperate. If he insists on it, rest assured he will most certainly not have a job anymore."

"While I am grateful for your valiant defense of my honour and strict enforcement of MI6 sexual harassment policy," Eve said, "You may rest assured that Bond is even more motivated by negative reinforcement-- in the original sense of motivation by denial. And perhaps a bit in the colloquial sense of motivation by insult and physical injury."

Mallory looked at her with some incredulity and sighed. "Very well, I leave the wrangling of 007's obedience in your hands, which I am sure are most capable."

"I shot him once, didn't I?" She smiled again.

Mallory closed his eyes and sighed again, his face falling. He spun his chair around to face the far wall. He slumped forward slightly, his left elbow on the armrest, bringing his hand up to his brow. He began massaging his forehead with his fingertips with his eyes closed tight.

Eve flushed in embarrassment. “That was stupid of me to say. I should know better than to make light of almost killing a man. Please, I was just—"

“Just trying to make it all bearable. I know, Eve, I know. You’re lucky you got out of the field when you did. I know you still doubt your decision every now and then, and I truly would put you back in the field the minute you asked me to, if that’s what you really wanted. But Eve,” Mallory sighed again and turned back around. “You have been incredibly lucky, and I would be personally loath to do so. Not because of—“ he gestured at the couch, “—anything that happened. But because I’ve been out there and Bond has been out there, and Silva was out there too.” His voice shook and hands started to tremble. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re strong enough, I do. But I also know strength alone doesn’t save you out there. That strength comes at a price. I’m actually happy for you that you can still joke about killing a man. I can’t, not anymore. You can only see so much pain and death and destruction before it does at least one of two things—It robs you of your soul, like it has from me, of your humanity, like it has for Bond, or both, like it did for Silva.”

“Sir—Gareth,” Eve paused and looked him in the eye. He blinked once and nodded. She continued, “Gareth, you are not soulless, you are a good man, a brave man who dove across two desks directly into the line of fire to save a woman’s life—and in that moment at least you did,” she cut him off before he could insist that Silva had been on the verge of breaking down and quitting on his own steam at that very moment. “You are not soulless.” She concluded.

He smiled weakly and shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s precisely how you can tell I am soulless. A mad man bursts into a room shooting, and my instinct is to go towards him. Not because I’m brave but because that’s what I was trained to do by my country and forced to do by my enemies, and it’s impossible for me to unlearn it. It’s not about good or evil, Eve, it’s about feeling empty inside. There’s nothing in there, there’s just a husk of a man waiting for something to react to, because he stopped being an independent actor a long time ago.”

“Wait a minute, do you mean Silva wasn’t an independent actor either? I don’t believe that and I know you don’t either.”

Mallory shook his head. “Have you read the profile the psych department has put together about Silva? He was empty too, and he filled it with her. As far as he was concerned, she was the only reason his life had any meaning, he was only a real person as long as she was alive. It was his loss of humanity that made the rest of his actions possible.”

“Him and Bond?” Eve queried.

Mallory nodded. “He and Bond both found a way to turn off the part of their minds that felt any emotion at death, at least deaths that they intentionally caused. To be able to look at another human being and not be able to see them— or rather the ability to not see them as an independent actor is—” he shook his head again. “Empathy, it’s a core part of our humanity. I don’t know if they were born without it, but I doubt it, given how they both felt about her. I cannot look at Bond and then at you and think it’s time to turn you into a machine like him. You are too _bright_ for that. You are destined for great things, Eve Moneypenny, and you must remain a complete human for it. There are precious few of them in our line of work in the first place, and absolutely none in the field after a year.”

Mallory’s eyes were desperate, almost wild, a sweat had broken out across his brow, lines carved deep across his forehead, and he was reaching across his desk. At her but not—in her direction but not that he had acknowledged nor asked her to do anything with. He was almost trying to protect her from this terrible fate he spelled out for her, attempting to take hold of her and pull her back from whatever reckless brink she may have been contemplating.

She stepped towards him and placed her hand over the one that was reaching. “Gareth,” she said calmly. “You are not soulless. You have seen much that no one should ever have to see, and you have no reason to be ashamed of its effect on you just because you signed up for the job. Occupational hazards are calculated risks one takes, not immunization from their effects. Please, don’t ever think that there’s no one in this job who can help you. I am here for you, and I will show you where your soul is hiding someday, somehow.”

He looked up at her, cool grey eyes meeting warm brown ones. And even as his mouth wanted to say it, it was impossible to even call her naïve. The determination on her face was not just encouraging, it was beautiful, like a Valkyrie of veterans. She was going to recapture his soul from whatever realm it had disappeared into and guide it back into his body. He looked at her, knowing that she would bring him his Valhalla as she was determined to. He placed his other hand on top of hers, then pulled it to his lips, kissing her rings for benediction.

She came round to his side of the desk, never letting go of his hand, and leaning against the edge next to Mallory’s seat, she placed her other hand on his cheek.  He turned his head and pressed his lips into that hand as well, and then she moved that hand up to run through his hair then swooping down to cup behind his ear, rubbing her thumb just outside on his temple.

“Eve,” he said breathily.

“Gareth,” she said serenely.

“I don’t know where you intend to look for my soul, and I don’t think it’s down this road, but regardless…” he moved his hands cautiously to her waist.

She chuckled, “Good, because I already cleared your schedule for the next two hours.”

“Ms. Moneypenny,” Mallory said in surprise. “Did you come in here planning to seduce me? I’m not offended, just impressed mostly, that you could work with the least erotic conversation I’ve ever had to whisk me away, to, well,” he ran his hands down the sides of her hips, past the hem of her dress before inching back up under it, “to this beautiful place I had been longing to revisit.”

Now it was her turn to be taken aback. “Longing? This whole time?”

His hands stilled but he did not remove them from under her dress just yet. “Whenever I thought about it, yes. I assure you I do not think about it constantly throughout every day, but sometimes when I have a particularly tedious government minister sitting on that couch rambling on about things they know nothing about, I think about something else they don’t know that happened on that very couch.”

She smiled broadly at the thought. “I don’t think anyone could object to being the subject of a much needed diversion from such torture.” She saw him swallow hard at the word. Cursing herself for her carelessness again, she remembered his previous question. “I hadn’t intended to do anything. I could just tell you needed a break. You’ve been working twelve, fourteen hour days for six months. And I saw an opening in your schedule and worked hard to keep it that way.”

His thumbs began lightly brushing the sides of her thighs again, as his hands slid up even further to come to rest on the curve of her buttocks. They flexed and firmed beneath his hands, her hips angled slightly back so they rested more deliberately in his hands while inching her sex closer to his face. He breathed in deep and detected his first whiff of her wetness, a scent which drove a frisson of energy from his nose down to the base of his cock, as it twitched as if it was trying to hone in on the scent as well.  
Massaging her buttocks, he couldn’t help but notice something missing. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on her abdomen, breathing deep her scent some more and inspecting the terrain of her dress before looking up at her and saying throatily, “I can’t tell if you’re wearing a thong or nothing.”

With a knowing look, she placed her hands on his from the outside of her dress, then said, “Why don’t you take a peek?”

His eyes squeezed tight involuntarily at the invitation, and the challenge, which he quickly set about accomplishing. His wrists under her dress had already rucked it up quite a bit. All he needed to do was duck down his head slightly and lift it the rest of the way with his nose. He kept it up by tilting his chin forward and affixing his lips to the first thing they could find.

Which in this case was a delicate lacy thong, resting on a neatly trimmed and shaped bush. He tilted his head back further reaching his tongue down to the apex of the front piece of the thong, pausing slightly to tease the divot in the fabric her clit lay under, until he tasted his first salty sweet hint of nectar coming from her cunt as it soaked into the thin strip of cloth—not even cloth, just an elastic band on its own, really, where it spread her lips. She gasped softly as his tongue reached down as far as he could and lightly at first, then with more pressure with each one, swept up along the elastic band, pressing the band deeper into her cunt, his tongue spreading her lips wider.

Without moving his head, he guided her with his hands to sit on the edge of his desk, and she lay her palms flat onto his desk, positioning herself to allow him better access, which he promptly took advantage of. He pressed his hands to the insides of her thighs and gently spread them further apart before plunging his tongue inside of her cunt, now flooding his tongue with the taste of her.

He continued lapping hungrily between the lips of her cunt and occasionally fucking her with his tongue. She let her head fall back, biting her lip against the urge to moan loudly. She was all too keenly aware the door was technically unlocked. She compensated for her inability to vocalize by resting her hand on the back of his head, unconsciously urging him on, which he responded to with great vigor. Soon, with trembling fingers she reached down between her legs and hooked a finger under the front triangle of her thong, moving it aside to uncover her clit.

Mallory took the hint and ran his tongue up one more time between her lips up to the hard little bud where they met. He began mercilessly teasing her clit with his velvety tongue, varying the pressure and the directions it moved in. He could feel her thighs quivering and he knew she was getting close. He remove his right hand from her thigh and slowly slid two fingers inside of her. She breathed out loudly but still unvocalized. Her eyes squeezed tight as her smile threatened to bite right through her bottom lip as he began working his fingers in and out, fucking her with his fingers, stimulating everything just inside that ring of muscle while he continued also teasing her clit with his tongue. Her free hand travelled of its own volition down to her right thigh where the echo of Mallory’s hand still lingered. She fought against her basest nature for instant gratification, resisted shoving him aside and finishing herself off like she knew she could do in about two seconds, because it was the anticipation, the slow build into madness that made it so wonderful right now. In compromise, she settled for rubbing the inside of her thigh, which made its own subtle contribution  to the steady build of her climax.

Taking the hint she was close, he hooked his fingers inside of her, pressing on her G-spot while still moving his fingers just enough to keep rubbing the entrance to her cunt. Then with a slight suck of her clit, her cunt exploded in white-hot energy, resonating outwards in wave after wave of muscle spasms and pure bliss. Her mouth open wide in a stifled cry, one aborted groan that only made itself known again by the cracking of her throat.

Mallory continued to lap at her cunt while the aftershocks reverberated throughout her and as she was coming down from her climax. She would give a sharp shiver every time his tongue ghosted over her clit during her descent, and she rubbed her hand through his hair as if trying to ascertain if it was even real, if anything that she was touching or was touching her was real. He cleaned up the hot cream that had gushed out of her so magnificently and savored every last drop, though she remained wet inside and continued getting wetter and wetter.

“Gareth,” she said with a slight gulp of air at the end of his name, trying to get her breath and voice under control so it sounded like normal, “Gareth, please, let me, do, anything, what do you want, what do you want most?” She started giggling. “I am just so fucking wet and hot and open right now, you could probably just move in there.” She giggle again deliriously, “Oh god that is a terrible picture, just terrible,” she gasped between her fingers. “Don’t listen to me, crazy orgasm talk.”

Mallory felt her laughter go deep into his very core, warming him up in a way he hadn’t felt since his wife died. That was one of the things he missed most. Laughter during great sex, the mad things she would say when it was really great sex. It was one of life’s purest joys to know that not only had he reached such a high level of physical intimacy, but also emotional intimacy that let a partner become so unguarded after their climax dampened all sense, and to just hear their thoughts and feelings run rampant around you.

“It’s alright, you’re wonderful, and I told you I wanted to visit again. Moving in may be moving a bit fast though.” He winked at her and she covered her eyes with one hand as she shook with laughter again.

“Please come visit again,” she said as she wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes. “I’m serious,” she looked deep in to his eyes, her tone complying with her own words. “I need you inside me, right now.” She leaned forward just enough to see the crotch of his trousers, and indeed, he was about to burst at the seams.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said graciously as he arose from his chair.

“Yes, that is rather the point,” she chuckled. “You’ve well earned it, though. Bravo.”

“Is this to be my encore performance, then?” he asked with a smile as he opened a desk drawer.”

She shook her head. “Act five climax—“ she noticed what he was getting out of the drawer. “Are you prepared this time?” she said in mock amazement, though she was genuinely surprised (and felt a little ashamed of herself for getting so caught up in the moment that she completely forgot, though she trusted him to tell her if he had been with anyone else between both times).

He nodded somewhat sheepishly. “Like I said, I promise I am not thinking about this every time I see you, but,” he shrugged with a congenial smile, “I think about it enough to be inspired to be prepared for it.”

“How very thoughtful of you,” she replied, and she meant it.

“I wouldn’t want to ruin anything with some preventable…circumstances arising.”

She nodded in agreement, thinking she would save telling him she was on the Pill another time. They were a long way from monogamy regardless of whether or not either of them were actually sleeping with anyone else, or if their path was even headed in that direction. She just reached for his belt and relieved some of the pressure that was about to burst his trousers wide open. He sighed as she cupped and gently rubbed his cock and balls through his briefs until he pushed both down and she took to just caressing his balls as he rolled on the condom.

Once it was on, she beckoned him forward with his own balls and she repositioned herself on his desk for his better access. He pursed his lips at both the stimulation of his balls and how irresistible he found (any woman, but especially) her ten times more attractive when she showed what she wanted without hesitation or shame. He moved closer and ran his hands up the tops and down the insides of her thighs. She lifted her knees enough for him to hold them from underneath, which he did as he moved closer to her cunt.

With one hand, she moved aside the thin band of her thong that he had pressed between her lips with his tongue, and moved the hand from his balls to the base of his cock. He held her thighs up and open and she guided him inside. She was so warm and wet, both open and tight at the same time—he felt he fit her perfectly. He sank deep inside her, and he indicated that he wanted her to wrap her legs around him, which she did, freeing his hands to place on either side of her hips, slightly behind them, so he was fully hilted inside her almost flush with the rest of her body too. He then place his hands flat on the small of her back, caressing her lightly as he slowly began moving inside her.

He let out a small groan while she let out another slight gasp. As he thrust steadily, his hands on her back kept her from sliding too far back on his desk, but also provided her great leverage to meet his thrusts slightly as she jerked her hips in time with his thrusts. He murmured soft noises to her, no real words except the occasional “Eve” and “oh god” and “fuck”. He just wanted her to know how good she was making him feel, that he was thoroughly enjoying this gift, so glad she insisted on giving it to him.

They sped up together until they reached a rapid pace that hit him just right. She tightened her cunt around him as he fucked her, making stars appear in his vision. His hands began moving, rubbing her back as he tried to press even further into her.  She was so lovely and this felt wonderful and he was so happy they were doing this again. There was no more shame as there had been every time he’d thought about it since the last time, and there never would be again. He would never impose on her, the ethics of this situation dodgy enough as it is, but she would be free to come to him whenever she needed it, or felt he needed it, he knew it had to be secret, but knowing that she could want him this much and that he fit so perfectly inside her, there was absolute nothing for them to be ashamed of. They were both adults who wanted, wanted, wanted this. And oh God he wanted nothing more than to completely merge with her right now.

He buried her face in her neck to muffle the cry that he could not stifle when he came. One arm rose to lay across her shoulders and press her even tighter to him.

“Gareth…” she whispered before angling her hips forward slightly, pressing her clit against the bone right above his cock. She started grinding back and forth on it, in short, quick strokes. She wanted to come again with him inside her, and fortunately he was still hard enough and she still sensitive enough from the first time that soon she was lunging forward, pressing her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck as she shook in ecstasy.  
   
They clung to each other, panting for a few minutes while they both came down. They finally disengaged when he yawned loudly and suddenly. "Eve, I swear that wasn't a commentary on you or--" he said hastily, but the smile on her face told him all was understood.

"It was a commentary on your sixteen-hour days." She slid off the desk and reached down, as professionally as one could under the circumstances, and pulled off the condom, knotting and disposing of it, then pulling up his briefs and trousers. She left his shirt untucked, loosened his tie, and lifted it over his head. "You've got about another hour and fifteen free, I would suggest using it to lie down and get some rest if not some sleep."

He nodded, his body wanting nothing more than to do just that-- except perhaps to do it with his arms wrapped around her. But no, someone needed to be by the phone in case World War III broke out, and besides, it wasn't that kind of relationship.

 _Not yet_ , a hopeful voice inside of him said.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from this poem by Cormac the Skald:
> 
> _At the door of my soul she is standing,_  
>  So sweet in the gleam of her garment:  
> Her footfall awakens a fury,  
> A fierceness of love that I knew not,  
> Those feet of a wench in her wimple,  
> Their weird is my sorrow and troubling,  
> \-- Or naught may my knowledge avail me--  
> Both for now and for aye to endure. 
> 
> Not really related, but I liked the sound of it.


End file.
